


Albus Potter and the Drowning Song

by thissirenscreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Illustrated, M/M, Scorbus, Slow Burn, on going, post tcc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8142010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thissirenscreams/pseuds/thissirenscreams
Summary: Albus Potter's fifth year is eminent. Assignments are due, friendships are tested, love and rejection are in the air, and something sinister is lurking in the Hogwarts grounds and murky waters of the Black Lake.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Along with -I think- nearly everyone in the fandom, I was particularly frustrated with The Cursed Child. I don't want to ignore the established cannon, but with this project I hope to maybe set right certain injustices I found with the material, and maybe address what I would have liked to have seen from a post DH narrative. That said, I've fallen in love with Albus and Scorpius and want to push that relationship further, and develop it as realistically as I can, (having once been a frustrated gay teen). So this project should run as if it were a year in the life at Hogwarts, hopefully following (and maybe subverting) some of the classic Potter tropes, with next generation characters.
> 
> (Chapter two is nearly completed, so look forward to that in the coming week or so! It isn't likely to be as long as the opening bit, but the boys are headed to Diagon Alley, so there should be some nice contrast to the muggle environment, here. Also, in the coming days/weeks, I'll be adding art for each chapter!)
> 
> Of course, constructive criticism is welcome and wanted!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As summer comes to a close, Albus and Scorpius must complete a Muggle Studies assignment where they are required to spend time in a muggle space

Albus Potter breathed deep and sighed. He sat hunched over; his knees held in his arms _,_ his forehead stuck pathetically against the cold glass of the bay window in his bedroom. He was perched on the window’s cushioned shelf, a book haphazardly strewn open at his feet, _Muggle Studies: Cultural Reflections and Refractions_. He stared, waiting, _longing,_ tucked into the small glass alcove overlooking the driveway and flowering lawn of the Potter residence. It was grey and wet that morning, the rain had begun to fall, softly thudding against the window and trickling down in soft silver streams, like iridescent serpents slithering quietly through the glass and across Albus’s cheek. The summer was nearly over, Hogwarts had long since sent letters for supply lists, trips had been made to Diagon Alley, and the summer reading was nearly finished, yet Albus had not seen his best friend since the previous term. _They’re late,_ he thought.

* * * * * *

 

Albus looked down at the textbook between his feet and shuddered. Before the summer holiday, but after correcting a nearly world ending time paradox, he had been sitting in the Muggle Studies classroom, eagerly awaiting the clock to signal the end of classes, when Professor Thorpe posed one final assignment. “Now, I know examinations have just ended, and the End of Term Feast is but a few hours away,” the professor had announced, “but I’d like to offer a new challenge while you’re all away for the holiday. As we’ve only just begun our exploration of muggle theory and philosophies I’d like to extend our studies into _practical application_.” Albus remembered the professor smiling as the class looked on, bewildered, “for this assignment you’ll need to go out into a muggle space of your choice, for at least two hours. There, I’d like you to participate in the culture and partake in the food and activities, then you’ll write a half meter of parchment detailing your experience.” She smiled as the class groaned in unison, “now now. This is an excellent opportunity to really broaden your understanding of a culture that exists parallel to your own, especially as we will be moving on from Wigworthy’s _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles,_ next fall, and onto more challenging material.”

Albus remembered the class’ small uproar, and among the chaos, one happy face; his best friend, Scorpius Malfoy, beaming up at him, “maybe we can do this together! Your grandfather and aunt are both very familiar with muggle spaces, right?” Albus thought for a moment, Grandpa Arthur was virtually an expert (albeit nearly crazed in his fascination) on all things muggle related. And his aunt Hermione _was_ muggle born, and as Minster for Magic, was constantly aware of the goings on of the muggle world.

“Yes- yeah, I uh, I think so!”  
            Professor Thorpe continued, “now, while you’re in the muggle space I want everyone to be thinking about a few things. You’re not simply observers in this place, but part of the experience, so I want you to go dressed in muggle clothes. Pretend, if you can, that you _are_ a muggle. How does your interaction with food and shopping and other muggles change? This is a field experiment in performance theory, so I want you guys thinking about this and comparing it to your own very real experience as a magical person in a foreign environment. 

* * * * * *

 

Albus’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the bedroom door, “Sweetheart?” It was Ginny Potter, her light brown eyes gleamed but her brow furrowed with worry as she saw her son alone in the windowsill. “Oh, is Scorpius still coming?”

“Oh, hey mum,” Albus replied, lightening slightly at the sound of another person. “Uh, yeah, I- uh, he’s probably just running late.”

Ginny smiled at her middle son, and sat down beside him, at the window. “Albus, I know its been rough lately, and I know recently things have gotten better, so I’m asking now, _please_ don't be mad at him,”

“But dad cant make it,” he finished for her.

“Oh, you know he wants to,” she breathed, “but there’ve been numerous disappearances around the Scottish lochs, lately, and he’s just a little tied down.” She hesitantly rested her hand on his shoulder.

Albus smiled sincerely, “I know. It’s all right. He’ll make it up to me.” He glanced out the window again. “So are you taking us, then?”

“Oh, I want to. But you know I have to be at the Prophet in about ten minutes.” She gave him a reassuring hug, “your aunt Hermione has agreed to drop you boys off on her way to the Ministry.”

Albus paused, suddenly worried as he pictured Hermione in a black, official Ministry of Magic vehicle, little flags waving from the hood. “We can probably just go another time,” he stammered, “I mean there’s still a few weeks left of summer. I’d hate to be a burden.”

“Nonsense, Hermione practically jumped to see you.” She stood and kissed him on the head, “now, I’ve got to run. Love you.”

 

Albus looked up to the sharp popping sound of his mother disapparating from the room. He was alone, James had left for the day with some other seventh year boys, and Lily was staying with Rose at the Granger-Weasley home. Albus sighed and looked about his bedroom; from the posters on his wall of his mother’s days as a Hollyhead Harpy, to the scant bookshelf in the corner, or the rumbled sheets and blankets on his unmade bed, and felt a gaping hole within.

He stood and walked to the door, turning to the scratching sound of his ferret, caged atop his desk. “Well, at least I’m not completely by myself…” he said, reaching into the cage. The ferret scurried and stared at him, then lunged and greeted him with a sharp bite. “OUCH!” he cried, quickly retrieving his bleeding left hand, “and _this_ is why you don't come to Hogwarts anymore!”

Albus cupped his hand in the other, hurrying out the door and down the stairs to clean the wound. But just as he reached the bottom landing and began to cross through the sitting room, an eruption of green flames exploded from the fireplace, followed by a very tall boy, crawling out from under the mantle, his pointed face was handsome, and soot clung to it and his shining white-blonde hair. “Scorpius!” Albus cheered, forgetting his wound and throwing his arms around the other boy.

Scorpius turned scarlet, grinning ear to ear, as he returned the hug, squeezing his best friend as tight as he could. “Albus!” A warmth spread between the two boys, extinguishing a loneliness that had pervaded the entire summer, each boy, at last, with the most important person in his life. Albus shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, smiling. Then, as quickly as the embrace had begun, so too did he find himself pulling away. Albus shook his head slightly and patted down his shirt, Scorpius looked up as red stains smeared across his friend’s button down, “Albus, you’re- you’re bleeding.”

 

Albus sat on a bar stool in his parents’ kitchen, his hand wrapped in a cloth and resting on the granite counter top. He watched as Scorpius dug through cabinets, searching for herbs to manufacture a salve. “So,” Albus asked, “how was Majorca? You look a little burnt,” he laughed.

Scorpius was on his tiptoes, reaching deep to the back of the top cabinet, he slipped a little and chuckled. “You should see my dad, put an apple in his mouth and he could pass for a spit-roast.”

Albus snorted as he pictured Draco Malfoy smothered in honey and turning above a Polynesian fire for a crowd of hungry muggle tourists. “Speaking of your dad,” Albus started, “I thought he was dropping you off, today? You nearly gave me a heart attack coming through the fireplace like that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Scorpius said, now dicing a purple and orange root that smelled of cabbage and sugar. “He’s got some big assignment down at the ministry, I guess some muggles have gone missing around two or three different lakeside villages, this past week.” He opened a jar and pulled out a small pickled creature, violet with soft pink spots, and juiced it with a rolling pin. “By the way, sorry I was late. Father, er - _dad-_ doesn't really like using the floo network, and finding some powder around the house was harder than I’d expected.”

Albus watched Scorpius take a pestle from the drawer, crush a handful of black and red berries and then pour the juice from the mortar into a bubbling cauldron on the stove. Albus considered Scorpius’s words, “yeah, _my_ dad must be working on the same assignment. Some wizards have gone missing at a Scottish loch.”

Scorpius filled a ladle of the potion and walked to Albus, taking the stool next to him, “hmm! Maybe they’ll actually have to follow through on trying to be friends.” He gently tipped the ladle over a wooden bowl next to him. The fluid was black and thick, running slow from the large spoon.

“Well, that looks delicious,” Albus grunted.

“Yeah, erm, well, assuming I prepared everything correctly,” Scorpius stammered, reaching for Albus’s left hand and softly unwrapping the bandage, “this _should_ heal up in a few hours.”

“Ohh, I seeeee,” Albus chided, “and if you buggered it up? What then?” He smirked as Scorpius uncovered the wound. The ferret had left a nasty gash, and the bleeding had only worsened in the few minutes since Scorpius’s arrival.

“Oh, I dunno. I imagine your whole arm might fall off,” Scorpius said, glaring intensely. There was a silence, and then Scorpius snorted and giggled for being such a terrible liar.

Albus shoved him with his free hand, _“not funny._ ” He was smiling. Albus looked up as Scorpius took his hand, resting it gently in his own. Scorpius’s skin was soft and cool against the painful, throbbing heat emanating from Albus’s fingers. The small but persistent stream of blood gushed harder with every heartbeat, and suddenly, in Scorpius’s palms, Albus’s heart was pounding…

Scorpius took a wet cloth and wiped away the blood, cleaning the wound. It was deep. Then, taking two fingers, he scraped the thick potion out of the bowl and paused, his grey eyes locking onto Albus, “alrighty now, this is gonna hurt. For real this time.” He pressed the salve into the wound; it was gritty, like it had been saturated in salt, and it _burned_ , like acid ripping into and through Albus’s bloodstream. Albus winced loudly, his green eyes filled with tears as he stared back at Scorpius, then shut violently. Scorpius continued to pack the wound with the black slime, his heart aching as he caused more pain for his friend. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, softly squeezing and relaxing his grip on Albus’s hand.

Albus opened his eyes, at last. Though red and teary, he smiled, “ya know, actually, I think… I think the pain’s gone. Now it’s almost like I can taste… mint ice cream… but in my blood. Weird, actually. Really weird.” He looked down at the wound as his blood fizzed and bubbled where it touched the black salve. “Kinda nice, honestly.” Albus looked at Scorpius, who was a bright shade of red, slowly reducing and returning to a pale milk color.

Scorpius was relieved to see his friend no longer in pain. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hand and taking Albus’s, wrapping a bandage tightly to prevent any future bleeding.

“You’re a talented healer,” Albus said.

Scorpius blushed, “thank you.” He smiled, staring into Albus’s eyes, then stood suddenly, washing his own hands while Albus began to clean the mess on the counter. “Ya know, just paying attention in Herbology and Potions,” he jested.

 

There was a knock at the front door.

“I’ll be right back,” Albus stammered, running out of the kitchen and down the hall to the door, “I’m coming!” he shouted, yanking it open.

“OH!” Hermione was startled as the door was flung open. She was clutching an umbrella, huddling in the porch, as the storm outside grew angrier. “Oh hi there, sweetie,” she said, warmly, entering the doorframe and shaking her umbrella out by the doormat.

“Hi Aunt Hermione,” Albus said, smiling, and looking crazed, what with tears in his eyes and blood on his shirt. He went in to hug his aunt when she suddenly backed away.

“Goodness! Al, Sweetheart, are you alright? You’re covered in blood.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry. It’s all mine,” he laughed, “and here I am leaning in to smear it on you.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed as she laughed, still slightly concerned, “that's alright, as long as you’re okay…” She looked at her watch, “why don't you clean up, and I’ll wait in the car for you boys? Hmm?”

“Yeah, yes! And thank you again, for –uh- the ride. I know how busy you are!”

She smiled as she opened her umbrella again, “no problem, I miss seeing you! Now hurry along!”

 

Albus sprinted into the kitchen and slid to a stop. There was a hamper of fresh laundry resting on floor, by the cabinet. He knelt down to find something less bloody.

“You didn't tell me your aunt was driving us,” Scorpius said, washing the cauldron in the sink. He was watching his friend rummage through the basket, across the room.

“Yeah, sorry, last minute change of plans.” Albus was standing again, steadily unbuttoning the bloody shirt he had been wearing, he stretched, pulling it off, and threw it to the floor.

Soft, rainy light trickled in from the kitchen window. Its gentle glow traced the curves of Albus’s bare chest, the ripples of light moving in waves across his ribs, cascading down the flat of his stomach and navel. For a second, and then an eternity, the boys’ eyes met. Scorpius’s mouth was dry. He had shared a room with Albus for four years, at Hogwarts. They had changed in front of each other a million times. But never had Scorpius _watched._ He swallowed, “so, um, is Rose coming?”

Albus exhaled a little too hard and bent down, grabbing a fresh grey button down and a black cardigan. He was nearly dressed again as he stood up, “no, she did the assignment a few weeks ago. I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for me.” 

* * * * * *

 

The car ride was relatively short, and -to Albus’s relief- _subtle_. Hermione had picked a simple grey sedan, nothing too flashy or otherwise abnormal. He thought for a moment, feeling quite stupid for assuming his muggle-born aunt, the minister for magic, would be anything but subtle and inconspicuous on the road. In fact, Albus thought, Hermione was also proving to be a far better driver than either of his own parents.

Hermione asked about the assignment, apparently she had assisted Professor McGonagall in appointing Professor Thorpe as the Muggle Studies instructor. Beaming, she then revealed that this coming term Muggle Studies would become a mandatory class for all Hogwarts students; introducing the subject to First Years, rather than waiting for optional electives in Third Year. “This will be my first Ministry Decree to directly affect education programs at Hogwarts, and I know there will certainly be backlash from some of the old pure blood families…” she trailed off, “oh I don't mean to bore you boys, I think its wonderful you both chose to attend the class.”

“I think it's great,” Scorpius replied from the back seat, “imagine how a change like this could have impacted someone like my father,” he paused, “well, sooner at least…”

“Or Tom Riddle,” Albus blurted. A silence fell over the car.

Hermione nodded, looking into the rearview mirror at the two boys, “well, some of my closest friends have seen first hand what his idea of Muggle Studies could have been. No, this will be something important, something that over time will have such a significant influence on wizardkind.” She took a deep breath and smiled, she was so hopeful. “Well, boys. We’ve arrived. Welcome a muggle _shopping mall_.”

 

Hermione hugged each of the boys as if they were her own, “I’ll be back after lunch to pick you up,” she said, reaching into her pocket and retrieving a small black rectangle. She put the mysterious object in Albus’s hand, it was cold metal and glass, “your mother asked me to leave this with you, should anything happen. You know how to use it, right?”

Albus looked down at the black shape in his hand as Scorpius stared on in wonder and confusion. Albus laughed and slid it into his pocket, “yes -haha- I’m familiar.”

Hermione gave Albus another big hug and slid back into the driver’s seat, she rolled down the window as she drove away. “Have fun, but please, _learn something!”_ she shouted, pulling away into the busy street. She was gone.

 

“So,” Scorpius asked, as they walked through the sliding glass doors and entered the mall proper, “mind telling me what the thing in your pocket is?”

They were greeted with the endless echo of a thousand voices; hundreds of shoppers, retailers, screaming children, hurried business men and women, and exhausted mothers and fathers shopping for back-to-school. Albus took in a deep breath, instantly overwhelmed and yet equally fascinated. He smirked, pulling the sleek black box out of his pocket again, “it's a _cell phone.”_

“Ah,” Scorpius replied, knowingly. “I’ve only heard about those in class.” He shrugged, “ya know, this honestly seems far more efficient than writing a letter, or using the floo network.”

Albus nodded, “or using a patronus, even.”

Scorpius looked around, the hallway stretched on for what seemed like miles, its sides lined with little muggle shops. Shoe retailers, clothing, toy stores, television and video games, body piercings, tattoos, a mecca of muggle consumer fascination. “Sooo,” he stammered, “where do we even begin?”

Albus had only been to the mall three or four time, with his father, and while he certainly didn't know the ins and outs of popular muggle trends or fashions, he did at least have enough passible muggle clothes, and a limited knowledge of the structure’s layout. “Muggles like… shoes?” He laughed, reaching for a starting point, and Scorpius nodded in agreement.

 

It was dark in the shoe store; a black light was pointed at several t-shirts in shades of neon, hanging above the shelves. The store was overrun, as muggle children would be going back to school a week sooner than wizard students, and a new semester meant new clothes. The shoes themselves were wild and varied, boasting colorful urban prints, or grungy skater patterns. The other teenagers in the store hardly noticed Albus and Scorpius, as one girl in black denim shorts and tattered blue tights pulled on a pair of black boots, the toe of which was covered in sharp spikes. Another boy, to Scorpius’s left was bobbing through the shelves, settling on a pair of white and navy shoes meant for sailing, he had khaki shorts on and a faded denim button down with a white t-shirt. It was clear his family had a lot of money, for muggles.

Scorpius looked down at his own feet, soled in brown leather brogues, then turned to Albus’s coal colored loafers. He looked up at his friend and smiled, “hey Albus,” he grinned, “I think we might be nerds.”

Albus snorted, and covered his mouth, “yeah, ya know… _maybe_.” He laughed. “You wanna go?”

“Please,” Scorpius replied, turning to the door. He paused as Albus appeared behind him and looked across the hall, “what’s that?”

Albus squinted as he read the sign above the door. This he did recognize, as it was a muggle pastime his father had long ago introduced to the family. “ _Oh,_ it's a video store. Um, like they sell movies and music. Not too many left, actually.”

They entered, somewhat blinded by the fluorescent lights. The store was lined with shelves, rows and rows of films divided by genre, and a tiny corner with a sign reading “CLEARANCE ON ALL CDS.” Scorpius waded between aisles of horror movies, reading titles with disgust and fascination. “Muggles take pleasure from watching murders?”

Albus laughed, “no no no, it’s like a theatre production but permanently recorded. It’s all fiction.” Scorpius nodded in understanding. “Maybe you can come over some time and we can watch something?” Albus added.

Scorpius smiled, his fingers grazing over the various boxes, “I would love that.” Albus turned red and quickly rounded the corner, Scorpius trailed behind, “wait wait wait, I know what these are!” They had entered the vintage section, and Scorpius enthusiastically began leafing through old vinyl records, “ _I finally know something!”_

Albus felt suddenly validated, his friendship with Scorpius was the most genuine relationship in his life, and they had always been mutually giving when studying or doing homework, but Scorpius had -without question- the academic edge. Albus felt proud to finally have something he could hold over Scorpius, however minor.

“No Weird Sisters? No Hobgoblins?” Scorpius joked.

Albus laughed, “naah, but there are some genuine classics mixed in here,” he said, digging through the stacks, “I mean, Abbey Road? The Wall? Ziggy Stardust? _Legendary.”_

Scorpius stared at him blankly.

“What? Really?” Albus was in shock; perhaps his father had shared more of his muggle-raised past than he had thought. “You don't know The Beatles? Pink Floyd?” he put his hands on his hips, “I _mean,_ Scorpius, are you sure you’re even British?” Exasperated, he sighed, “David Bowie???”

“ _Hey now,_ everyone knows Bowie,” Scorpius replied, raising his hands in surrender. “Only wizard to make it in both the magical and the muggle music scenes.”

“Well we’re furthering your education,” Albus declared, stacking album after album into Scorpius’s arms.

“I am but a humble student!” Scorpius laughed, as they walked to the register.

The cashier was a bored looking girl, not much older than Albus, chewing gum and leafing through a magazine; a perfect cliché. She looked down at the various vintage records as she manually typed in each purchase, “The Beatles, huh? This your first week on Earth, pal?” she said, rolling her eyes.

Scorpius was quick, however, “no, no. I’ve been living under a rock, locked away in a Swedish bank vault, and relocated to a bomb shelter on a desert island. I only saw the sun for the first time, yesterday.”

She blew a bubble, “neat-o,” and held out her hand, awaiting Scorpius’s payment.

 

The boys continued their adventures in the muggle shopping mall: in one strange tech store they found themselves equally confused by the remote controlled beds, and equally fascinated by the sticky sand. Then later, at a sporting goods store, Albus found himself explaining the difference between British football and American football, and how quidditch is essentially a hybrid of football, baseball, basketball and dodgeball. They moved from candy stores to greeting cards, from toy stores to department stores, buying and laughing their way through the central hub of muggle enterprise, when, at last, they arrived at an all too familiar storefront.

The windows were darkened with thick curtains outlined in red and violet neon bulbs. Centered in the widow was a circular neon sign in lavender bearing the words “Psychic Reader,” in its center was a hamsa and a nazar. The door was shut, but the hanging sign was turned to “open.”

“What do you think?” Scorpius asked. “Should we go in?”

“A muggle master of ‘ _the sacred art of divination_?’” Albus replied, an evil grin spreading across his face, “I can hardly resist.”

“Maybe we’ll actually learn something,” Scorpius smirked.

They pushed open the door, through a hanging passage of beaded strings, and found themselves greeted by near darkness and the sweet, smoky musk of nag champa. Curtains hung from nearly every centimeter of the ceiling, gathering at a central point around a hanging Tiffany lamp, decorated in stained glass effigies of eyes and hands. Below it was a round wooden table, over which was thrown a white doily tablecloth, in its center was a crystal ball and a stack of cards. The walls were seemingly lined with bookshelves, though the light was so dim they might have just disappeared into the darkness.

A dramatic voice emanated from within the black, as a figure appeared, darkly, before them. “ _Who seeks the services of Ma Le Feye?”_

“Oh, uh. Well. We were just looking for maybe a reading? Or something?” Scorpius stammered. Albus looked at him, his brow furrowed, _this is ridiculous,_ his eyes suggested.

“ _Ahhh, and what troubles you, dear boys?”_ Ma Le Feye entered the light, she was a stout woman, dark skinned and wild haired, which she tied back with a scarf, great gold hoops hung from her ears and she swayed as she walked. “ _School? Life_? **Love** _? Ma Le Feye sees all.”_

Scorpius thanked the darkness in the room that Ma Le Feye couldn't see him roll his eyes as he smiled and said, “huh, well, uh, I’m open for suggestion?” Ma Le Feye motioned for him to take a seat. Albus, watching, folded his hands behind his back and meandered slightly behind Scorpius.

Ma Le Feye seated herself across from Scorpius. She tilted her head back as she theatrically waved her left hand over the crystal ball while dragging her right across the cards stacked before her. _“Aaand what shall be the medium through which I divine your fortune, sweet child? The most proud art of crystal gazing? The ancient craft of tea reading? Ma Le Feye is a skilled palm reader and an expert in the noble school of tarot.”_

 

As Scorpius contemplated the fortune telling tools, before him, Albus thought of his earliest Divination lesson, and of old Professor Trelawney, her hands shaking as she waved them before her tea cup, introducing the crafts which they would learn in her classroom, “of all the great diving arts, however, there is none so bland and simple as that of the tarot card,” he remembered her saying. “Tarot is the stuff of muggles and gypsy charlatans… _Common_ , and far too ambiguous,” she scoffed.

 

Albus smiled, presently, as he knew Scorpius must have revisited that same memory, as the blond boy pointed at the tarot deck.

 _“Ahhhh,”_ Ma Le Feye breathed, flourishing her hands and removing the crystal ball. She gathered the cards before her, taking her hand and smearing them into a disorganized pile, then pushed the heap to Scorpius. “ _Shuffle, please, dear boy.”_

Scorpius frowned at the mess before him and began to restack the cards into a deck, “uhh, what if they’re upside down?”

Ma Le Feye smiled, her words breathy and exaggerated, “ _ahh, that's alright. The cards will fall as they are intended, and their message will be plain,”_ she sighed. _“Shuffle, boy. As many times, until you are content.”_

Scorpius cut the deck and rifled, once, twice, a third time, and set it down before Ma Le Feye. She shut her eyes and held her hands atop one another, hovering above the deck. She began to whisper some incantation, barely audible, moving her hands in a circular motion above the deck. Scorpius assumed this was for dramatic effect. He turned in his chair, while Ma Le Feye’s eyes were shut, and looked back at Albus. _She can’t be serious,_ his grey eyes seemed to say.

Albus returned the glance, his own green eyes saying something like, _this is completely absurd,_ or, _I hope you’re getting your money’s worth._

 

Ma Le Feye sighed, and Scorpius quickly turned back to face her. _“And now we begin,”_ she whispered, taking the deck and laying the first card face down, before Scorpius. _“This card represents your immediate present, your actions and reactions are defined by this card; this is you.”_ She overturned it, revealing a figure of a man in robes, placed before him was a table on which sat a coin, a sword, a cup, and a wand. It was upside down. _“Ahh, the Magician in reverse. Consider this an influx of knowledge where there was none, if the Magician is ultimate talent and mastery, then its reversal represents the novice.”_ She smiled, placing another card atop the Magician, this one horizontally, forming a sort of cross. The image was of a man atop a cliff face, carrying a bindle. “ _Ah, as expected, the Fool. This card acts as an affecter upon the first. Your role as student and as a novice are enhanced by the Fool.”_

Scorpius made a face, “I mean, I wouldn't exactly call myself foolish…”

_“Oh, no no, my darling. The Fool is a figure for the self, the two cards merely tell me that you are a student and that your education has yet to be completed.”_

Albus scoffed in the corner and rolled his eyes, _I’m sure that was very hard to guess, two teenaged boys…_

 

“ _The next card represents a great trial, forthcoming,”_ Ma Le Feye whispered, placing the card next to the crossing of the Magician and the Fool. She paused, and shivered, as if she were genuinely afraid to overturn it. _“Heed this warning, for the challenge represented by this card may result in ultimate peril.”_

Scorpius leaned in close as Ma Le Feye uncovered the card, revealing a hideous horned monster with great wings, and two slaves, a man and a woman, naked and chained to the creature. Ma Le Feye sighed, “ _the Devil. I sense great danger for you, boy, should you continue to live in fear, as this card suggests. You are bound by this terror and should it consume you… I fear the worst.”_ She sighed deeply, _“I see a terrible beast, and your bondage to it. Do not become enslaved by this creature. Do not.”_

Scorpius felt a twinge of legitimate fear, for a moment, and then shook his head. _This is stupid,_ he thought.

Ma Le Feye’s hands hovered the deck, _“there is a chance for you, however,”_ she said, drawing another card and laying it horizontally across the Devil. _“This is a challenge, representing that which may defeat the impending peril. Be wise when following its cautions, and be careful to fulfill its promise.”_ She overturned the card, revealing two naked figures, each holding a goblet and preparing to embrace. _“Two of Cups, the union of these two figures holds divinity, grace, and the end of strife between friends or lovers.”_ Ma Le Feye leaned into the light so as to look into Scorpius’s eyes, _“there are only two absolutes when facing this challenge… two certain outcomes which may result,”_ she said, laying down two more cards below the crossing of the Devil and the Two of Cups. _“Ultimate reward,”_ she said, pointing to the first card, on which was once again, printed with the image of two nude figures, this time holding each other in a tight embrace, _“and ultimate failure,”_ she then pointed to the second card, where was depicted a figure of a skeleton, horseback and riding through a field of the dead. _“The Lovers… or Death.”_

Scorpius was stoic, staring into the cards with every breath and heartbeat in his body. Albus, too, was silent. _The Lovers, surely that meant Rose_. He stuck his hands in his pockets and huffed maybe too loudly.

Scorpius was shook from his trance and looked up at Ma Le Feye, “so what do those mean? Obviously not a physical death, right?” Ma Le Feye was still silent. “Right?” he persisted.

 _“I shall leave you to contemplate the meaning of those two cards,”_ she whispered, waving her hand dramatically, as she stood. _“I suspect they’ll mean more to you than anyone,”_ she said, speaking to Scorpius, but looking at Albus. He didn't notice.

Scorpius paid Ma Le Feye in cash and the boys headed for the door. She pushed it open for them, and looked into Albus’s eyes, once more, as he passed, _“good luck with school, Albus Potter.”_

Albus turned to look at Scorpius, who was already waiting in the large walkway in the mall proper. He, at least, hadn't seemed to hear her. “Uh, well, thank you,” Albus replied, awkwardly. Then, with a flourish of her many scarves, she disappeared back into the small, dark shop.

* * * * * *

 

The boys were seated in a large dining area filled with tables, its walls were lined with small kiosks vending meals and snacks; what muggles call a _food court._ Scorpius had pretty much shrugged off Ma Le Feye’s warnings as the guesses of a muggle mountebank, but Albus sat and stared into his milkshake, somewhat shaken.

“Well, that was completely ridiculous,” Scorpius laughed, digging into his chow mein without a care.

Albus silently stirred his straw through the thick creamy dessert, _I never spoke to her, yet she looked into my eyes and knew me,_ he thought.

Scorpius slurped a noodle into his mouth, noticing his friend had been silent for the ten minutes since leaving Ma Le Feye’s shop. He turned to Albus, sitting next to him, and watched as the other boy starred into the abyss of strawberries and bananas swirled into sweet vanilla ice cream and milk, not drinking. Scorpius reached across the table and snatched the milkshake from under him, bringing the straw to his lips and taking a long swallow.

“ _HEY!”_ Albus laughed, pretending to be angry, reaching for the cup in Scorpius’s hand as it suddenly traveled further and further away. “Hey, wait! Noo! Give it baaack!”

Scorpius held the cup above his head, chuckling, and said, “no no, not until you tell me why you’ve been so quiet!”

“What?” Albus stumbled, “I?” He huffed and furrowed his brow, but he was still grinning, as he avoided the question, “naw, that's mine!” He nearly shouted, practically climbing on top of his friend to retrieve the stolen dessert, but Scorpius slipped out of the booth and stood, holding the milkshake high.

Albus followed short, but Scorpius was almost half a head taller. Reaching as high as he could and standing on his tiptoes, he leaned in and nearly stumbled. They were face to face, now, their noses nearly touching when they locked eyes. For a moment that could have lasted forever, Scorpius was stunned.

“Got it.” Albus said, retrieving the milkshake from the other boy’s hand and breaking the tension.

 

They were standing, now, holding the tray over the garbage bin Scorpius shoveled down the remaining bites of his lunch while Albus took a deep slurp of his milkshake. “You’re sure you’re alright? You’ve been very quiet,” Scorpius persisted.

Albus smiled, deeply appreciating his friend’s concern, but not wanting to trouble him with his absurd worries, especially regarding Ma Le Feye. “What? No, I was just thinking about the assignment,” he lied.

“Yeah, I think we’ve got a great angle with the fortune teller! A muggle pretending to be magical, for the entertainment of other muggles… And some of them even _believe_ it’s all real! Absolutely paradoxical! Professor Thorpe is gonna lose her mind over these papers,” Scorpius grinned, getting maybe too excited at the prospect of homework.

 _Yours, maybe,_ Albus thought, knowing his own writing was nothing of particular merit. “Yeah,” he started, trying to sound enthusiastic, “well, uh, we’re gonna have to get started right away.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius nodded, “and then there’s th- _hey, what’s that?_ ” While Scorpius was known for being easily distracted, it was hard to miss the large spinning monstrosity in the center of the hall, where he pointed. The structure was two stories in height, covered in glowing popcorn bulbs, painted fiberglass horses and small mock-carriages. It spun ever so slowly while muggle children rode on plastic unicorns and laughed as their parents watched on from the side.

“What, _that?_ ” Albus replied, “it's a carousel. Dad took my brother and I, once, when we were younger. I remember Mum was watching with Lily because she was too little,” he said. “There’s this thing –well- it looks like a teacup, and it, uh- well, it _spins!_ And I don't think I’ve ever laughed so hard,” a smile broke across his face, “I don’t think I’ve had such a wonderful time with my father _or_ my brother, since.”

Albus’s joy was infectious, and forced a wide grin to stretch across Scorpius’s cheeks, but he could see a trace of sadness forming on his friend’s brow. Not wanting to ruin the smile on the other boy’s face, he locked eyes with Albus, and his heart warmed, “I would love to do that with you.”

 

The boys paid the small man operating the ticket window and boarded the carousel, weaving through a number of familiar magical beasts, frozen in fiberglass. Albus ducked between a griffin and a hippocampus, following closely behind Scorpius, who was squeezing around a Pegasus and a dragon. The blond boy stopped, suddenly, and it was everything Albus could do to not stumble into him.

Resting his hand on the snout of a painted leviathan, Scorpius turned to his friend, “well, it must have been fate,” he said, motioning before him at a pastel teacup, the size of a large bathtub; it was empty.

Albus followed Scorpius, as he entered the teacup and took a seat. It was cramped, being significantly smaller than it had appeared from outside, leaving the boys to sit against each other, slightly pressed together at the shoulders and hips. “You’re sure you wanna do this?” Albus asked, his face inches from Scorpius’s.

“High speed attractions on a full stomach? I can hardly wait!” Scorpius laughed.

Albus laughed, too, “if you puke, you’re on your own!”

“What?! You wouldn’t hold back my hair??” Scorpius teased, “me _?_ Your _best friend_?” he said, chuckling.

The carousel slowly began to turn. “Your _only_ friend,” Albus teased.

Scorpius lifted his hand and ruffled it through Albus’s hair, “hey, I’m okay with that,” he laughed, and rested his arm behind the other boy’s back.

It was certainly more comfortable without Scorpius’s shoulder digging into his side, so Albus scooted in slightly, enjoying the soft fuzz of his friend’s sweater against the back of his neck. The carousel was picking up speed; Albus leaned forward taking the metal ring in the center of the teacup and began turning it, allowing it to spin freely.

The carousel had reached top speed, and the boys were dizzily laughing as gravity pushed them closer together. “I… Can’t… Lean… Forward…” Albus laughed, struggling to move away. The world outside of the teacup existed only as streaks of light and color, spinning around them at impossible speed. For a moment, the whole world was only Albus and Scorpius. So he stopped fighting the pull, and happily settled into the nook under Scorpius’s arm. They laughed again at Albus’s struggle.

Albus tried to catch his breath, but was suddenly very aware of the warmth emanating from Scorpius, forced, as they were, into an awkward embrace. He was aware, also, of the sweet, vanilla smell of old books that permeated all of Scorpius’s clothes, and especially the sweater he was wearing, then. His heart pounded, drunk on that smell, and the fleeting joy of the moment.

It was like that, always, with Scorpius. The spinning. The immobility. The feeling of gravity punching through your heart. The drunken dizziness. And endless, unbroken joy. Albus had never wanted anything more than for that moment to last eternally.

 

There was a harsh and sharp cracking sound in the pocket of Albus’s cardigan. The moment had ended. The ride was coming to a stop and Scorpius, regaining mobility, turned to look at him, terror in his eyes. With dread, Albus reached into his pocket and slowly pulled from it his wand… it had snapped in two.

 


End file.
